Some Secrets Must Never Be Told
by LittleMewLugia
Summary: When Bumblebee is woken by bad memories, Optimus goes to comfort him, and remembers how and in what circumstances he found Bumblebee-something the younger mech must never be told about.
1. Chapter 1

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told.

Summary: When Bumblebee is woken by bad memories, Optimus goes to comfort him, and remembers how and in what circumstances he found Bumblebee-something the younger mech must never be told about.

Rating: T

Characters: Optimus/Bumblebee (non-sexual context.)

Disclaimer: Transformers and all canon characters within belongs to Hasbro and Dreamworks/Paramount, not me.

A/N: One of two short giftfics for Yuuzaiden on Livejournal, for her help in making my animated icon.

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told.

Prologue.

Optimus Prime could not have said what brought him out of the energy-conserving shutdown that he and others often performed to while away the hours when humans recharged by 'sleeping' every night.

Although human sleeping and waking hours were variable, the time between 3AM and 5AM was often the time when even the most nocturnal humans had gone to bed, and the early risers were still deeply asleep. It was during these two hours that Optimus and the others tended to power down their systems, but were ready to power back up in a millisecond if they were needed.

The Autobots (and the Decepticons too, of course) had so many more senses and methods of communications than those of humans, although they seemed to cope just fine. It was nothing a human would necessarily have picked up, but Optimus could tell, somehow, that someone was in distress. He widened his sensors and felt with all his scans for anything that might have prompted it. He soon worked out who it was and rose from his rest pallet, heading for Bumblebee's room.

Optimus sent his identifying code: the door opened to admit him. The younger mech was sat up on his rest pallet, optics wide and glowing a hot blue. He was in a semi-crouch, as if ready to move suddenly. The lights were on already as Optimus entered: Bumblebee must have put them on upon waking.

Optimus walked over.

"Bumblebee?" he asked. Bumblebee shook his head.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, it was bad memories." He replied.

"Bad memories." Optimus repeated quietly. Then, even gentler: "Tyger Pax again?"

Bumblebee gave a small nod.

Optimus closed the remaining distance to Bumblebee's rest pallet, dropping to a kneeling position. He held out his arms, and Bumblebee wordlessly climbed onto Optimus' lap, and clung to the larger mech's sides: Optimus closed his arms around Bumblebee and held him, just as he had held Bumblebee when he was a child, and the sounds of conflict had woken and frightened the youngster.

He had been able to stroke Bumblebee up and down his back then: the sensors in a child's body would have triggered a soothing effect leading to the child's voluntary shutdown, but in an adult, the same caresses were highly stimulating, often a lead up to spark-merge and interfacing, and had Bumblebee ever approached Optimus with that in mind, Optimus would have been flattered, and happy to oblige, but that was not this situation, so this was neither the time nor the place for Optimus to stroke the scout's back.

Bumblebee nuzzled his face into Optimus' chest as he had in that innocent child-stage, and Optimus put one hand up to rub the back of Bumblebee's cranial structure, a gesture that was calming for both adults and children of both genders. Bumblebee's hands were tight on the seams of Optimus' armour, but as Optimus held Bumblebee, and sent him a databurst comprised of reassurance and a feeling of safety, the younger mech's hands began to relax and he relaxed against Optimus.

As he held Bumblebee like this, Optimus cast his mind back to when he had first encountered Bumblebee.


	2. Chapter 2

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Chapter One

**Cybertron, approx. 30'000 years before the present time.**

Optimus Prime dodged from shadow to shadow, the muted greys and blacks of his colour scheme helping him to blend in with his surroundings, at least to the unspecialised optic. A specialist implant suppressed his Spark and heat-signature, but this was only a temporary adaptation – they tended to burn out after a few vorns of use, and this one was near the end of its life.

He didn't think he was in any danger, the Decepticons had gone through this part of the city and seemed to be showing no signs of turning back, but Optimus was taking no chances. Too many Autobots had been surprised by Decepticons waiting in the area after the main force had passed. Too many had died as a result, and Optimus Prime did not intend to risk joining those ranks of fallen heroes.

Bodies in the street, suddenly he was in a main throughway, and there were so many bodies lying in the street. As usual, the Decepticons had swept through this part of the city, taking on any Neutrals who accepted their veiled threats to join their ranks, and slaughtering any Autobots they found, and any Neutrals who refused to join them. As he always did upon encountering such scenes, he scanned the bodies looking for a Spark-signature, someone who had survived. Such signs were rare, for the Decepticons were nothing if not thorough.

As his scan flickered over a limp femme, her limbs broken and her abdomen covered with the black residue of laser fire, the scanners registered a very faint Spark-signature. Optimus stopped, checked again for any more Spark-signatures – strong ones would register but those of the ill or damaged tended to be weaker and needed a more thorough scan to pick up – within a mile. There were none.

He stooped by her, marvelling that with the damage that she had taken that she might still live, but as he saw the blast hole at the base of her neck, a blast that would have travelled up and down her body and cables, and destroyed her Spark and processors, he knew that there was no way she could be alive. He grabbed hold and rolled her over – and there was the body of the Sparkling that the femme had obviously died trying to protect.

He scanned again: yes, this was definitely the source of the Spark-signature that he had detected, and the Sparkling had obviously not gotten clean away without being damaged. It too had laser residue on it, although the shots had been glancing, probably deflected or weakened by the mother.

Optimus picked it up, cradling it in his arm, hunching over it to protect it. He looked again at the femme, his optics widening as he noticed a small detail beneath the charring of the femme's plating. He stood, scanned a few more bodies around him, and then broke into a run, hoping to get his fragile, precious burden back to the Autobot base in this city.

He scanned every body he came across on the way, but found no more survivors. When he reached the Base, he handed the injured Sparkling to Ratchet, who had given him one startled look, and then walked into his med bay, broadcasting on all short-range Autobot frequencies that he was not to be disturbed unless somebody was in imminent peril of permanent deactivation.

A week later – with two interruptions for urgent cases – Ratchet came out of the med bay to talk to Optimus.

"I have transferred the Spark to a child body. It's too old to be Sparkling, was supposed to have been transferred to a child body with more processor capacity a few thousand years ago, but I guess with a war on, the parental units thought it could wait until they had the time and resources. I would have had to transfer it anyway, the body was so badly damaged."

"How is it otherwise?" Optimus asked.

"He." corrected Ratchet. "It's a mech spark. He is now interfacing with my computer, learning as many facts as he can. Seeing as his memory chips got filled to capacity quite some time ago – this is one inquisitive child – most of his current memories are very early ones. Primus, the sparkling body was short on memory chips anyway, it only had half the normal amount! There's not even the memory of his name! He knows a few syllables and has been trying them out. 'Buh-buh-bee' seems to be a favourite."

"Then maybe he could be named Bumblebee." Optimus said. "It's as good a name as any other, and at least he will respond to it."

Ratchet nodded. "Bumblebee it is, then." he agreed. "As you seem to have taken on the parental role in that respect, perhaps you could act in that capacity to this child?"

Optimus nodded. "I shall." He agreed.

Ratchet looked down at the floor, then back up.

"Optimus, where did you find this child?" he asked.

"I found him under a fallen femme. It appears that she died to protect it." He said.

"A Decepticon femme?" asked Ratchet. Optimus' optics widened: he had not told Ratchet about the femme's red optics, or the almost-obscured Decepticon logo barely visible under the laser burns on her chest.

"How did you know?" asked Optimus.

"The sparkling body had red optics." Ratchet said "and a very small Decepticon logo on the top of the central area of its back. Painted on, rather than the usual embossing or acid-etching, admittedly, but it was there."

"Ratchet, have you seen all of that child's memories?" Optimus asked the medic. Ratchet nodded. "Are there any there that would tell the child if he saw them." Optimus queried. Ratchet shook his head this time.

"A few views of a logo, a few memories of hearing Megatron's rants on the datawaves, but there are Autobots who can remember seeing Decepticon logos on other mechs and graffitied on buildings, and many Autobots who can recall Megatron's speeches too, including both you and I." Ratchet told him. Optimus nodded slowly: he remembered. His brother was an excellent public speaker and knew just how to stir up a crowd and inspire certain sorts of people with his words. He nodded.

"May I suggest that this knowledge not be shared with anyone else, that we tell nobody, not even Bumblebee, unless there is some very good reason. To tell him could confuse him, and he might feel unwelcome under our roof. I would hate him to flee out of guilt or uncertainty, and possibly end up hurt or killed. We can tell him when he is older, perhaps."

Ratchet nodded. "Yes, I agree." He said. "Let him have his childhood. Let's try and shield him as much as we can from the evils of this war."

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**Earth, Present Day****. **

Of course, Optimus recalled, as he became aware of his surroundings again, surfacing from those memories, that time of shielding had not lasted long. They had had to move from the Base a very short time later and find a new one, plus Bumblebee's inquisitiveness would have meant that they could not have hidden the fact of the war from him much longer anyway – he had already began asking awkward questions, and was learning to recognise when they tried to evade the question by changing the subject.

Late one night, Optimus recalled, he and Ratchet had sat Bumblebee up with them, and explained about the war, explained, in all fairness, both sides' viewpoints, and explained the war's origins. Bumblebee had then pledged himself (quite vocally, Optimus had recalled) to the Autobot cause, although both Optimus and Ratchet had stressed that he should not feel he had to make a decision, at least not until he was older, and could even stay Neutral, under their protection if he wished.

Bumblebee had been placed into an adult protoform body a few thousand years later, due to a dwindling supply; they wanted him to be able to have the full adult range of abilities and capabilities, they didn't want him stuck in a half-sized child body with limited capabilities for the rest of his life.

After a while, they realised that Bumblebee was determined to be an Autobot, following in the footsteps of the one he viewed as a father – Optimus Prime. Optimus had quizzed him on his reasons for his choice of side, worried that the response would be "Because you are." and had been surprised by Bumblebee's sensitive and insightful reasons, plus Bumblebee's awareness of the perils and tasks he might face as a fully-fledged Autobot soldier. By the time Optimus had finished talking to Bumblebee, he could no longer deny him his choice, and had accepted Bumblebee's decision as one he now knew Bumblebee had the full awareness of what it meant, and thus the right, to take it.

Bumblebee's inquisitiveness and curiosity meant training him as a scout made the most sense. That curiosity, coupled with his small adult size, and his early-on noticed knack of being in places, unnoticed and silent, without nearby people realising, all made sense that Bumblebee's training be in surveillance rather than as a front-line battler.

That didn't mean that Bumblebee was harmless, or unarmed, by any means. Bumblebee could fight all right, regular drills in cannon-use and targeting lessons from Ironhide, as well as close-combat melee fighting techniques took care of _that_ concern, because it was unrealistic to hope that Bumblebee would never get in a fight, either as part of a group or on his own, but fighting was only his secondary skill rather than his primary one. His fighting skills, it was hoped, would primarily be for defensive purposes only, he would not be expected to be on the front line – they had large, trained warriors, such as Ironhide and Bluestreak, for that.

Then there had been the battle at Tyger Pax.

Optimus had hoped that leaving Bumblebee and five other Autobots, including Arcee, a femme who had no qualms about attacking Decepticons, would be an unneeded precautionary measure only. After all, he and a much larger force of Autobot soldiers had assembled, with only half-hearted attempts to 'hide' their presence in the province of Simfur, in the hope that Megatron would assume that the AllSpark was there, being defended by the large force, rather than at Tyger Pax, guarded by just a small group of Autobots as it quietly counted down to its launch into space.

As Optimus had hoped, the main force of Decepticons attacked them there at Simfur, but what he _hadn't_ realised was that that attack was a decoy, drawing attention away from the fact that Megatron was not there with them. Instead, he had second-guessed the Autobots, worked out where the AllSpark really was, and had headed there with a small but deadly team of his own.

It was the first and the last time that Optimus had underestimated his brother, Megatron.

The end result had been one Autobot dead, his Spark ripped from his body by Swindle, as the other Autobots were forced to watch, part of Swindle's torture methods, in an attempt to force the Autobots to reveal the exact location at Tyger Pax of the AllSpark. Only one Autobot in that location had known this information – Bumblebee – and although Megatron, (after sending the other Decepticons out of the room) had torn Bumblebee's right arm from his body to try and make him talk, Bumblebee had refused to admit that he knew.

Only the launch into space of the AllSpark had stopped Megatron from tearing off each of Bumblebee's other limbs, one by one, to try and force him to speak. Instead, in a strange twist, Megatron had stopped just long enough to rip Bumblebee's vocal processor from his throat, planning that Bumblebee would never say _anything_ again before flinging himself into space after the AllSpark. The other Decepticons, bewildered and unnerved by the precipitous departure of their volatile leader, had themselves left, for they assumed Megatron had dealt with all the Autobots.

The survivors had managed to get Bumblebee back to the nearest Autobot base, where his arm had been reattached, but his vocal processor was completely shattered, and it had taken time, Ratchet's medical expertise, and the regenerative powers of the AllSpark in the Hoover Dam to restore Bumblebee's voice to him, an event that had occurred just a few months ago.

Optimus looked down at the brave little scout, now in total voluntary shutdown in his arms, and reflected that had the femme Optimus had found sheltering Bumblebee herself not been killed, he and Bumblebee could have so easily ended up on different sides of this fight.

Optimus still wondered why the Decepticons had killed her, killed one of their own. Had they tried to force her to abandon the Sparkling because they felt that by taking him with her, she was slowing them down? Had they tried to kill Bumblebee, and been forced to kill _her_ as she tried to defend the life of her Sparkling by firing on her own fighting comrades? Had they felt forced to kill her because they had then lost her loyalty? Optimus supposed that that was a question he would never know the answer to.

The issue of Bumblebee's origins had also never come up: Bumblebee was aware that Optimus was not his real father, but had never asked to know more. Had he done so before deciding to be an Autobot, Optimus might have told him, for that would have been his right, his freedom, but Optimus did not know what he would do if Bumblebee asked now, unlikely as that possibility was.

Bumblebee believed passionately in the cause of the Autobots, in their views on freedom, the rights of other species besides their own to exist, and in protecting the weak. Optimus suspected that if Bumblebee found out the truth about where he had come from, that truth would do more harm then good. It was no longer an issue of Bumblebee's freedom to know, if that information were to destroy Bumblebee's sense of self and peace of mind.

No, Optimus thought as he held the scout to him, Bumblebee had already been through _more_ than enough. There was no reason at the moment for Bumblebee to know, and it was highly unlikely that he or Ratchet would ever find a reason to tell him.

Secrets were odd things, he thought, some kept for the right reasons, some for the wrong ones, and some kept stubbornly by some although, because other people had been told or had found out some other way, the 'secret' was widely known.

However, Optimus reflected, there were some secrets that should _never _be told.

He was still thinking about this, and holding Bumblebee gently on his lap, when the sun rose, banishing the darkness of the night with its rays.


	3. Chapter 3

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Chapter Two-Secret's Out.

A few weeks later.

Bumblebee delicately trailed the brush down the large sheet of paper lying on the floor before him, watching as the colour bled into the paper, giving the figure before him the same deep green colouration he recalled from his memory.

It was the suggestion of Sunstreaker, himself an artist, that Bumblebee try his hand at painting. His hand was steady, Sunstreaker had assured him, it would be something he could at least try. "Everyone needs a hobby, Bee." The yellow scoundrel had told the scout. "Try it in your room, if you're slagging useless at it, at least you've tried and no-one needs to know."

He wasn't exactly useless at it, he found, at least Sam, the only person he had so far shown his efforts to, had thought they were quite good. Now, as Bumblebee carefully applied the brilliant red colour he recalled from his memory to the picture before him, he was unconcerned.

There were always exceptions to every rule, and maybe the dark green femme he was painting had liked the idea of a green body contrasting with red optics. The optic colour was no sure guarantee of affiliation. Frenzy was ample proof of that, and he had once heard Sunstreaker state the reason he had joined the Autobots despite some of his views leaning more towards the Decepticon side of things:

"What, _me_, join the 'Cons?" he had said with ample sarcasm. "Not slagging likely, what a fashion disaster that would be with _my_ gorgeous paintwork. I'm not having their symbol blotting my bodywork. Purple just _ain't_ my colour!"

Smiling, Bumblebee sat back to run a critical optic over his work. He compared it with the image in his memory, the smiling femme, one hand raised to the centre of her chest, the optics half-shuttered as she sang a Cybertronian lullaby. It was an incomplete memory, brief, but it was one of his few memories of his maternal unit, the one who had cared for and nurtured him before whatever had happened to her had happened. Who had killed her, he wondered, and why?

He pushed that thought aside, for it was a question he knew he'd probably never get the answers to. The only witnesses who could answer that were the only people left alive afterwards, and that would likely be the perpetrator or perpetrators, and his/her/their leaders and/or followers, if any. The only certainty he had, that Optimus had told him, is that she had been shot in the dataports on full force, by somebody. The reason was unknown. He had been the only survivor, and as the few memory chips he had had were completely full, he had no memory of the attack.

His door chimed, and he received a databurst requesting permission to enter: it was Ironhide. Bumblebee could not cover his creation as the paint was still wet: he gave permission for Ironhide to enter, if he thought the picture awful, Ironhide would say so, as diplomatically as possible.

Ironhide entered.

"Bumblebee, you have not been at the target range for two weeks, I would suggest that you attend to keep your aim straight….oh, so this is what has been taking your time, is it?" Ironhide smiled at Bumblebee encouragingly. He looked at the painting, looked again.

"Hey, I know who she _looks_ like, but I guess it can't be." Ironhide said. "Who, Ironhide?" Bumblebee asked the Autobot Weapons Specialist. "It could be the same person, and I never did know her name. Please?" he asked.

"It looks like a picture of Weaponsmistress Laserfrost." Ironhide stated. "What she didn't know about freezing and laser-based weapons wasn't worth knowing, and she had the most interesting habit of combining both methods. She worked on the prototype for Jazz's hot-and-cold blaster, y'know. She was one of the last innovative weapons-smiths Cybertron produced."

"What happened to her?" Bumblebee asked. Ironhide sighed.

"She heard Megatron's rousing speeches and just like that, upped and left one evening, cleared out her workshop and left. The next thing we knew, she was with the Decepticons, designing and adapting weapons for them. Then her activities just seemed to…slow down. I heard it said she was one of the last people to receive a Sparkling from the AllSpark, but after a few years, nothing more was heard of her." He peered at the picture again, scrutinising it. "I must say, that picture _does_ look like it's her, the shape of her head and face was _very_ distinctive, unmistakeable, I'd say." He brought up a hologram, and it was unmistakeably the same femme, although with her hand lowered, the purple Decepticon insignia on her chest was no longer hidden beneath the upraised hand as it was in Bumblebee's painting. Unaware of the unpleasant shock he had just given the scout, Ironhide blinked the hologram out, and turned to the suddenly-silent scout.

"Where did you see her' Bee, we've heard nothing about her for several thousands of millennia?" he asked.

Bumblebee dropped his head.

"I have reason to believe she died back on Cybertron." He said. He continued speaking before Ironhide could ask anything else. "Look, I'll book some time in the target range later, but for now, could you leave me alone?"

"Bumblebee, what _is_ it?" asked Ironhide, concerned. This was very unlike the usually sociable young scout. He was not as close to Bumblebee as Optimus was, but he had been around Bumblebee long enough to realise that something he'd said had made the young Autobot agitated.

"Just leave me alone! _Go away!"_ Bumblebee said, almost shouting. He realised he was losing control in front of a superior officer.

"I'm sorry, I just need some time alone for an hour or so. _Please?_" he asked.

"Okay, Bumblebee, I'm going now." Ironhide said, backing out and allowing the door to close behind him. He heard it click as Bumblebee activated the lock. This, again, was unlike Bumblebee.

"Optimus." muttered Ironhide, heading towards the Prime's office. Optimus Prime knew Bumblebee better than anyone else. Perhaps he could help work out what was bothering the little scout?

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Bumblebee didn't move or speak after closing the door on Ironhide. His processors were whirling. One thought kept repeating.

'_My mother….was a __**Decepticon?**__'_ After a few moments, it was joined by another.

'_What does that make __**me**__?'_

He shook himself out of it. First things first: he could access the data-net for more pictures, see if he could see anything on any other photographs to suggest that this Weaponsmistress Laserfrost was not his mother. He knew that Optimus had much of Cybertron's history and knowledge stored in an extra hard drive on his body, and had downloaded this onto the computer network the U.S Government had given them for their Base. He also knew that it was all in Cybertronian and double Autobot-cipher encrypted, which although it wouldn't stop the Government from eventually being able to read it, would at least slow them down some.

Accessing the files, he found several pictures showing the person Ironhide had told him about, and after skimming through the information on there, and looking at the images, he had found nothing to contradict the conclusion he'd drawn: nothing in the pictures except the background and some temporary injuries differed from the memory.

He brought up his own memory to compare, and now he knew it was there, and where to look, there it was. He magnified the area encompassing the hand she had up to her chest, and he could just see, so small you'd have to look for it to see it, the end of a tiny purple point – one of the 'ears' of the spiky Decepticon logo – sticking out from under the palm of the raised hand.

The proof was inescapable. Bumblebee's original maternal unit had been a Decepticon femme.

Bumblebee disconnected the computer link and deactivated the hologram he'd projected. Standing, he checked that Ironhide had gone before opening his door and slipping off down the corridor looking for somewhere to hide.

He needed some time to think.


	4. Chapter 4

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Some Secrets Must Never Be Told

Chapter Three.

A/N **Bold type ** indicates databurst conversation.

Optimus' head tilted upright from looking at some images from Qatar sent to him by the Army (who believed the images might show Scorponok hiding under the sand) at Ironhide's knock and databurst. As he did so, he realised that he could again sense that somebody in the base was distressed. Once he'd spoken to Ironhide, Optimus decided that he'd have to investigate. He bid Ironhide to enter.

"There's something wrong with Bumblebee." the big 'bot said, concern evident in his voice.

"What is it, Ironhide? Was there any evident cause?" Optimus asked. Ironhide shook his head.

"No, I was discussing his artwork, and I don't think I said anything negative about it. In fact, the painting he was doing reminded me of somebody I knew." Ironhide stated. "Then he suddenly went all odd on me, asking me loudly to leave his room and leave him alone, and locking the door. You _know_ that's not like our Bumblebee." Ironhide frowned. "As I said, I don't _think_ I said anything to denigrate his artwork."

Optimus got what humans might call 'a sense of foreboding.'

"Ironhide, what did the painting portray?" asked Optimus.

"A beautiful but very distinctive dark green femme, with her hand raised to her chest." Ironhide told the Autobot leader. "Her optics were half-shuttered and her mouth was open as if she were in mid-speech or song." Ironhide explained, demonstrating the pose with his own body.

"You said it reminded you of somebody you knew." Optimus said.

"Who, Ironhide?" he asked.

"Weaponsmistess Laserfrost." Ironhide told Optimus.

"Who was she?" asked Optimus sharply.

"She was one of the best weaponsmiths Cybertron ever produced." Ironhide told Optimus, bringing up the hologram to show him. "Inventive, innovative, intelligent and beautiful. What a shame she joined the wrong side."

He sighed, his optics briefly shuttering, which is why he did not see the alarmed widening of Optimus' optics as he recognised the femme, and registered the purple insignia in the centre of the hologram's chest.

"Ironhide." The tone of Optimus' voice brought Ironhide back from his thoughts and he opened his optics, blinking as he saw the expression on Optimus' face. It was an expression Ironhide was not used to seeing on the face of his commander. Optimus was _worried._

"_Ironhide_." Optimus repeated, urgency in his voice. "_**Please**__ tell me that you __**didn't**__ show Bumblebee that hologram!_"

"I'm afraid I did. I was showing him how the distinctive head-shape made by her crafted hair meant that his picture was almost definitely of her. How did Bumblebee know her, Optimus? Do you know?"

Ironhide's question went unanswered as Optimus crossed to his door, opened it, and set out at a half-run to Bumblebee's room. Ironhide turned off the hologram and ran out too.

Ironhide followed, quickly catching Optimus up. As they reached the young scout's room, Optimus databurst as well as blipping the door chime and knocking. There was no response to any of the signals.

"Bumblebee, it's me, Optimus. Let me come in, please." There was still no response.

"Autobot scout Bumblebee, this is your commanding officer speaking. Open the door and let me in." he said, letting a tone of authority enter his voice but without making it sound intimidating. There was still no response. Optimus sighed and turned to Ironhide.

"I do not think he is in there, but it is best to check before we search the rest of the Base." Optimus said. "I have called Ratchet, he has an emergency-override code to Bumblebee's door, for cases of medical emergency, or need. This counts."

"What's going on, Optimus?" asked Ironhide as Ratchet approached. Optimus once again didn't answer Ironhide, but nodded to Ratchet.

Ratchet sent the code, asking "I second Ironhide on that. I'd like to know what's going on as well, Prime."

Optimus sighed as the door slid open. He stepped in, talking in the sight of the half-completed picture and empty rest-pallet.

"It's not your fault, Ironhide, I just never thought Bumblebee would find out." He looked up at Ironhide, and then Ratchet.

"It seems that Bumblebee has found out the truth about the identity and affiliation of his mother."

Ironhide blinked several times as Ratchet scowled, drawing down his brow ridges and directing an angry glare at him. Ironhide noticed, holding his hands up and seeming to shrink under the medic's angry gaze. Optimus stepped over and lay a hand on Ratchet's upper arm.

"Easy, Ratchet, Ironhide didn't know, only you and I knew, remember? The chances of Ironhide seeing the picture and knowing the femme's identity were a million to one." Optimus said. He databurst Ratchet the details of the conversation he and Ironhide had had, and an image of the hologram. "Our priority now is to find Bumblebee, and try and convince him that it doesn't matter who his mother was, nor which side she was on."

"Woah – Laserfrost was Bumblebee's _mother_? You mean _Bumblebee_ was the Sparkling she got from the AllSpark that I heard about?" Ironhide asked.

"Yes, but Bumblebee didn't know that, until _you _told him." scowled Ratchet. "I would have preferred it if the situation had _stayed_ that way. We now potentially have one very scared, confused, and upset scout to find."

"Then maybe we should have told Ironhide, if we had thought this might happen, but we can't see into the future, we were not to know." stated Optimus. "So, Ratchet, stop blaming Ironhide, and Ironhide, _don't_ blame yourself. Assigning blame is pointless. We should concentrate on finding Bumblebee."

"I have a scanner set up that we can access from my office." Ironhide said, as Ratchet's scowl dissipated. "It can show Spark locations. Ratchet, you could probably tie it into your medical computer and by a process of elimination, we can find him using that, can't we?" Ironhide asked.

"Yes, that's if Bumblebee hasn't driven out of the Base in an agitated state." Ratchet said.

"I'll check." said Ironhide, his optics dimming. "No." he said a moment later. "I spoke to Bumblebee just half an hour ago, and Cliffjumper, who is manning the gate, said the last people he opened the gates to were Hound and Prowl, who are on patrol duty. That was an hour ago. Wherever Bumblebee is, he's still in the Base."

They went to Ironhide's office, where he accessed the computer. A map sprang up, showing a graphic of the base, with spots scattered through it.

"We can eliminate those three – that's us." Ironhide said, touching the screen to remove the spots. "That one up by the gate is Cliffjumper." He said, touching another spot, which winked out.

Ratchet pointed to two spots in the area of the map corresponding to the Medical Bay. "One of those is Mirage, and the other is Jazz, who's in recharge." he said. Ironhide touched them both and they blinked out.

"There are five signals left - one in the corridor, one in the storage area, and three in the rec-room." Ironhide said. He turned on his comm.

"Sunstreaker? Are you in the rec-room?" he asked.

"Uh, yes sir, what's up? We haven't played any pranks, honestly, and it's our off-duty time!" said the yellow mech, sounding aggrieved.

"Nothing's up, just let us know who's in there with you. One of them is bound to be that misbeSparked twin of yours, right, but who's the other?" he asked.

"Uh, yes, 'Sides is here and so's Powerglide." Sunstreaker said.

"Thank you. That's what I wanted to know." Said Ironhide. He switched his comm to a different setting.

"Wheeljack, where are you?"

"On my way out to the courtyard. I have a new experiment to try." He said.

"As long as it's not likely to go 'bang', proceed." said Ironhide. He commed off, and touched the three spots in the rec room and the one in the corridor. He pointed to the single spot left, the one in the storage area.

"I believe we have found our scout." He said.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

They entered the storage area, which was dark and silent. Ratchet ran a scan, and pointed silently over to the opposite end of the storage room. The three quietly advanced.

"**He's hidden in the scrap pile."** Ratchet databurst to the other two. Ironhide databurst back something none too polite.

"**It'll take **_**forever**_** to search that lot!"** He said. **"Who's idea was it to collect old metal and circuitry anyway?"**

"_**Mine!"**_ Ratchet replied. **"I can't make spares and new plating out of thin air, you know!"**

"**I think I may be able to resolve this without the need to search."** databurst Optimus. He turned back on his vocal processor.

"Scout Bumblebee, you have nothing to fear and we would like to talk to you. Report."

There was a scraping and clattering noise, and then the little yellow scout slipped out from behind a pile of old hoods and roofs.

"Scout Bumblebee reporting Sir," he said. "I apologise, I needed time to think, and to reach a few conclusions."

Optimus shuttered his optics, feeling for anything from Bumblebee, and to his surprise and gratification, he could not feel as much distress coming from Bumblebee as he had feared he would.

"Would you like to share those conclusions, Bumblebee?" asked Ratchet gently. "Don't worry the three of us all know about your mother, but we are the only three who know, and none of us care whose side she was on."

Bumblebee nodded.

"She was my mother, but I was AllSpark-created and too young to choose my own side." He said. "My lack of a suitable number of memory-chips mean that I didn't even know my original name, or hers." He looked at Optimus.

"In the absence of a parental unit, you took on that responsibility and _you _brought me up, and as a result, really, that's all that matters. Why should the choice of my dead mother affect me?"

The little yellow scout straightened his back, held up his head and twitched his doorwings.

"I am Autobot scout Bumblebee, and would not want to be anything or anyone else." he said proudly.

"What my mother was, and what she probably expected me to become, have absolutely no bearing on who I am now. Why should it?" He said. Optimus stepped forwards and stooped to embrace the young mech.

"Of course it doesn't, Bumblebee, and we wouldn't have you any other way." He said.


End file.
